


In-tea-macy

by kimabutch (CWoodP)



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Gen, Tea, mentions of quarantine, spoilers for RQG 152
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23808274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CWoodP/pseuds/kimabutch
Summary: Zolf:Wilde. Three things. First of all, leave our stuff alone. Secondly, let us all go have a shower. Thirdly, put us in the cell.Hamid:Oh, and some food, please!Zolf:And that.Cel:Oh! And some tea, please.Zolf:And that.
Relationships: The London and Other London Outstanding Mercenary Group | LOLOMG & Oscar Wilde
Comments: 26
Kudos: 80





	In-tea-macy

Oscar Wilde is not altogether comfortable in the kitchen. Oh, he can cook if absolutely necessary, but he hasn’t really ever needed to and prefers to keep it that way. Even in this apocalypse, most of his meals are provided by the innkeeper. Or by Zolf, depending on who’s winning their argument that day.

But the innkeeper is busy preparing cots and Zolf is — well, desperate times. Oscar reaches for the tea cupboard. 

It had not taken long in Oscar’s partnership with Zolf Smith to discover his tea preferences. While Zolf is nothing if not hardy and will generally take what food and drink he can get, if given the time and choice, there’s nothing he likes more than a cup of orange pekoe. He makes a ritual of it in the evenings, carefully measuring the leaves, steeping the tea for exactly three minutes, and then gingerly pouring a teaspoon each of milk and sugar before settling down in front of the fire with one of his Campbells. He’s happy to make tea for anyone who asks, even Carter, but usually won’t let anyone else do it for him, claiming that no one measures it out right. He’ll probably make do with Oscar’s, though, given the circumstances.

Likewise, Cel is open — perhaps too much so — about how their inclinations. On the first evening of construction of their “boat,” Oscar had walked past the kitchen to see them unpacking a dozen different packs of tea from around the world. Before he could protest, he’d been caught up in a lengthy conversation about the comparative merits of sencha and fukamushicha and Cel’s terrifying experiments in combining highly caffeinated black tea with potions of Haste. They hadn’t actually indicated their favourite tea, but they’d left them all out in the kitchen, so Oscar chooses the best-smelling oolong. 

In contrast to Zolf and Cel, Oscar had stumbled on Hamid’s tea choice only by accident, over a quiet lunch with Saira al-Tahan during the L.O.L.O.M.G’s brief visit to Cairo. Oscar had sought to gather insight into Hamid’s emotional state following his eldest sister’s death, only to find that Saira was an even more conscientious conversationalist than her brother, and lax to give up any personal information. She had, however, recounted a handful of stories from Hamid’s youth, including the rate at which he had drank tea the first time he came home from school, complaining that English tea was rubbish and over-brewed. He prefers Koshary, a light, mint-infused Egyptian tea, or even better, the hibiscus tisane Karkade, served cold in one of Cairo’s open-air cafes. Oscar’s classical education has not taught him the finer differences between Karkade and the hibiscus tea from Cel’s packs, but he hopes it’s close enough. 

Azu’s tea preferences pose the greatest difficulty for him — and for Zolf, whom Oscar had found on the day Azu and Hamid had been released from quarantine, desperately trying to figure out the correct measurements for Chai ya Tangawizi, a spiced Kenyan black tea with milk, ginger, and sugar. Zolf had tried half a dozen variations, all based on vague memories he had of an old Kenyan crewmate, before placing it outside her room with an awkward knock. Now, it’s Oscar racking through weeks-old memories, trying to remember the recipe Zolf had settled on.

Oscar Wilde is not comfortable in the kitchen, and he’s relieved to finally be out, carrying a tray with six teas — an orange pekoe, an oolong, a hibiscus, a ginger chai, and two English Breakfasts, one black for Barnes, and one half-filled with milk and sugar for Carter — down the stairs to the makeshift quarantine room. 

It’s the least he can do. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very much not an expert on Egyptian or Kenyan tea, I've just done a little research — please let me know if I got anything wrong!
> 
> Also, in case you were wondering: Grizzop doesn’t usually drink tea, because he doesn’t really have the patience to let it brew and the Cult of Artemis learned long ago not to give him caffeine. When he does drink tea, he tends to go for something herbal, warm, and flavourful. On the other hand, Sasha doesn’t care about the type of tea so long as it’s black and over-brewed. If her tea goes cold, she will chug it down. Caffeine doesn’t affect her in the least and she often drinks several cups of black tea right before bed. Bertie doesn't deserve tea.


End file.
